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DISCOURSE 

-lUXED BY TlIK DKAIII ul' 

i'cnevai §.ln'aiikr i);inuit,oii, 

DELIVERED l.\ THE .\ORTII DUTCH Cll! RCU. 

IX THE CITY f>F AL1V\^^ . 
.)( LY m, IJSOI. 

' JJy Kev. ELIPIIALET >UTT, i». I). • 



SCHENECTAir. ; 
i;i:-i'ri5Li.siiED by g. y. van im'"'"';^"! 

185-3. 



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DISCOURSE 



OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF 



7^ 



(iciural l^ltt^aitkr |iaiiult0it, 



DELIVERED IN THE NORTH DUTCH CHURCH, 



IN THE CITY OF ALBA.NY, 



JUIiY 39, 1804. 



By Kev. ELIPHALET NOTT, D. D. 



SCHENECTADY: 

RE-PUBLISHED BY G. Y. VAN DEBOGART. 
1853. 



C5 



AD VERTISE3IENZ 



Frequent applications having been made to the Publisher for copies 
of the following Discourse, he has been induced to re-publish it, in 
order to meet the public demand. It is re-printed from a volume of 
Sermons and Addresses, by the author, published in 1810, but which 
has been for many years out of print. 
Schenectady, October, 1853. 



DISCOURSE. 



HOW ARE THE MIGHTY FALLEN! — 2 Samuel, i, 19. 

rpHE occasion explains the choice of my subject; — 
-L a subject on which I enter in obedience to your 
request. You have assembled to express your 
elegiac sorrows, and sad and solemn weeds cover 
you. 

Before such an audience, and on such an occasion, 
I enter on the duty assigned me with trembling. 
Do not mistake my meaning. I tremble, indeed — 
not, however, through fear of failing to merit your 
applause ; for what have I to do with that, when 
addressing the dying and treading on the ashes of 
the dead ? Not through fear of failing justly to por- 
tray the character of that great man, who is at once 
the theme of my encomium and regret. He needs 
not eulogy. His work is finished, and death has re- 
moved him beyond my censure, and I would fondly 
hope, through grace, above my praise. 

You will ask, then, why I tremble ? I tremble to 
think that I am called to attack from this place a 
crime, the very idea of which almost freezes one 



b DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

with horror — a crime, too, which exists among the 
polite and polished orders of society, and which is 
accompanied with every aggravation ; committed 
with cool deliberation, and openly in the face of 
■day ! 

But I have a duty to perform. And difficult and 
awful as that duty is, I will not shrink from it. 

Would to God my talents were adequate to the 
occasion. But such as they are, I devoutly proffer 
them to imfold the nature and counteract the influ- 
ence of that barbarous custom, which, like a resist- 
less torrent, is undermining the foundation's of civil 
government — breaking down the barriers of social 
happiness, and sweeping away virtue, talents and 
domestic felicity in its desolating course. 

Another and an illustrious character, — a father — 
a general — a statesman, — the very man who stood 
on an eminence and without a rival among sages 
and heroes, the future hope of his country in danger 
- — this man, yielding to the influence of a custom 
which deserves our eternal reprobation, has been 
brought to an untimely end ! 

That the deaths of great and useful men should 
be particularly noticed, is equally the dictate of 
reason and revelation. The tears of Israel flowed 
at the decease of good Joslvh, and to his memory 
the funeral women chanted the solemn dirge. 

But neither examples nor arguments are necessary 
to wake the sympathies of a grateful people on such 
occasions. The death of public benefactors sur- 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 7 

charges the heart, and it spontaneously disburdens 
itself by a flow of sorrows. 

Such was the death of lt)osi)tnijtOU, to embalm 
whose memory, and perpetuate whose deathless 
fame, we lent our feeble, but unnecessary services. 
Such, also, and more peculiarly so, has been the 
death of g a mi It Oil. 

The tidings of the former moved us — mournfully 
moved us — and we wept. The account of the 
latter chilled our hopes and curdled our blood. 
The former died in a good old age ; the latter was 
cut oif in the midst of his usefulness. The former 
was a customary providence : we saw in it, if I may 
speak so, the finger of God, and rested in his sover- 
eignty. The latter is not attended with this sooth- 
ing circumstance. 

The fall of Hamilton owes its existence to mad 
deliberation, and is marked by violence. The time^ 
the place, the circumstances, are arranged with bar- 
barous coolness. The instrument of death is leveled 
in day light, and with well directed skill pointed at 
his heart. Alas ! the event has proven that it was 
but too well directed. Wounded, mortally wounded, 
on the very spot which still smoked with the blood 
of a favorite son, into the arms of his indiscreet and 
cruel friend, the father fell. 

Ah ! had he fallen in the course of nature ; or 
jeopardizing his life in defence of his country, had 

he fallen But he did not. He fell in single 

combat. Pardon my mistake — he did not fall in 



8 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

single combat. His noble nature refused to endan- 
ger the life of his antagonist. But he exposed his 
own life. This was his crime : and the sacredness 
of my office forbids that I should hesitate explicitly 
to declare it so. 

He did not hesitate to declare it so himself: "My 
religious and moral principles are strongly opposed 
to dueling." These are his words before he ventured 
to the field of death. " I view the late transaction 
with sorrow and contrition." These are his words 
after his return. 

Humiliating end of illustrious greatness I— -Bow 
are the 7nigM?/ fallen ! And shall the mighty thus fall ! 
Thus shall the noblest lives be sacrificed and the 
richest blood be spilt ! Tell it not in Gath ; piihlish it 
not in the streets of AsJcalon ! 

Think not that the fatal issue of the late inhuman 
interview was fortuitous. No : the Hand that guides 
unseen the arrow of the archer, steadied and directed 
the arm of the duelist. And why did it thus direct 
it? As a solemn memento — as a loud and awful warn- 
ing to a community where justice has slumbered- — 
and slumbered — and slumbered — while the wife 
has been robbed of her partner, the mother of her 
hopes, and life after life rashly and with an air of 
triumph, sported away. 

And was there, my God ! no other sacrifice 
valuable enough — would the cry of no other blood 
reach the place of retribution, and wake justice doz- 
ing over her awful seat ? 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 9 

But though justice should still slumber and retri- 
bution be delayed, we, — who are the ministers of 
that God who will judge the judges of the world, 
and whose malediction rests on him who does his 
work unfaithfully, — we will not keep silence. 

I feel, my brethren, how incongruous my subject 
is with the place I occupy. 

It is humiliating; it is distressing, in a Christian 
country and in churches consecrated to the religion 
of Jesus, to be obliged to attack a crime which out- 
strips barbarism, and would even sink the character 
of a generous savage. But humiliating as it is, it is 
necessary. 

And must we, then, even for a moment, forget the 
elevation on which grace* hath placed us, and the 
light which the Gospel sheds around us ? Must we 
place ourselves back in the midst of barbarism ? And 
instead of hearers softened to forgiveness by the 
love of Jesus — filled with noble sentiments towards 
enemies, and waiting for occasions, after the example 
of Divinity, to do them good — instead of such 
hearers, must we suppose ourselves addressing hearts 
petrified to goodness, incapable of mercy, and broil- 
ing with revenge? Must we, 0, my God ! instead of 
exhorting those who hear us, to go on unto perfec- 
tion, adding to virtue charity, and to charitij hrotherly 
kindness — must we, as if surrounded by an auditory 
just emerging out of darkness, and still cruel and 
ferocious, reason to convince them that revenge is 

2 



10 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

improper, and that to commit deliberate murder is 
sin? 

Yes : we must do this. Repeated violations of 
the law, and the sanctuary which the guilty find in 
public sentiment, prove that it is necessary. 

Withdraw, therefore, for a moment, ye celestial 
spirits — ye holy angels, accustomed to hover round 
these altars, and listen to those strains of grace 
which heretofore have filled this house of God. 
Other subjects occupy us. Withdraw, therefore, 
and leave us — leave us to exhort Christian parents 
to restrain their vengeance, and at least to keep 
back their hands from blood — to exhort yoiith, nur- 
tured in Christian families, not rashly to sport with 
life, nor lightly to wring The widow's heart with sor- 
rows, and fill the orphan's eye with tears. 

In accomplishing the object which is before me, 
it will not be expected, as it is not necessarj^, that I 
should give a history of Dueling. You need not be 
informed that it originated in a dark and barbarous 
age. The polished Greek new nothing of it: the 
noble Roman was above it. Rome held in equal 
detestation the man who exposed his life unneces- 
sarily, and him who refused to expose it when the 
public good required it.* Her heroes were superior 
to private contests. They indulged no vengeance, 
except against the enemies of their country. Their 
swords were not drawn, unless her honor was in 

*Sallust de Bell. Catil. ix. 



ALEXANDER HMflLTON. 11 

danger; which honor they defended with their 
swords not only, but shielded with their bosoms also, 
and were then prodigal of their blood. 

But though Greece and Kome knew nothing of 
duelling, it exists. It exists among us : and it exists 
at once the most bash, the most absurd and guilty 
practice that ever disgraced a Christian nation. 

Guilty, — Because it is a violation of the law. 
What law ? The law of God : Tiiou shalt not kill. 
This prohibition was delivered by God himself, at 
Sinai, to the Jews. And, that it is of universal and 
perpetual obligation, is manifest from the nature of 
the crime prohibited, not only, but also from the 
express declaration of the Christian Lawgiver, who 
hath recognized its justice and. added to it the sanc- 
tions of his own authority. 

« Thou shalt not kill." Who ? Thou, creature. I, 
the Creator, have given life, and thou shalt not take 
it away ! When and under what circumstances may 
I not take away life ? Never, and under no circum- 
stances, without my permission. It is obvious that 
no discretion whatever is here given. The prohi- 
bition is addressed to every individual where the 
law of God is promulgated, and the terms made use 
of are express and unequivocal. So that life can 
not be taken under any pretext, without incurring 
guilt, unless by a permission sanctioned by the same 
authority which sanctions the general law prohibit- 
ing it. 



12 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

From this law, it is granted, there are exceptions. 
These exceptions, however, do not result from any 
sovereignty which one creature has over the exist- 
ence of another; but from the positive appointment 
of that eternal Being, whose " is the world and the 
fullness thereof. In whose hand is the soul of every 
living creature, and the breath of all mankind." 

Even the authority which we claim over the lives 
of animals is not founded on a natural right, but on 
a positive grant made by the Deity himself to Noah 
and his sous."^ This grant contains our warrant for 
taking the lives of animals. But if we may not take 
the lives of animals without permission from God, 
much less may we the life of man, made in his image. 

In what cases, then, has the Sovereign of life given 
this permission? In rightful war!; by the civil magis- 
TRATEjl: and in necessary self-defence. § Besides these, 
I do not hesitate to declare, that in the oracles of 
God there are no other. 

He, therefore, who takes life in any other case, 
under whatever pretext, takes it unwarrantably, — 
is guilty of what the Scriptures call murder, and ex- 
poses himself to the malediction of that God who is 
an avenger of blood, and who hath said, "At the 
hand of every man's brother will I require the life 
of man. Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall 
his blood be shed. 

The duelist contravenes the law of God not only, 

*Gen. ix, 3. t^ Sam. s, 12 ; Jer. slviii, 10 ; Luke, iii, 14. 
JEx. xsi, 12. §Ex. xxii, 2. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 13 

but the law of man also. To the prohibition of the 
former have been added the sanctions of the latter. 
Life taken in a duel by the common law is murder. 
And where this is not the case, the giving and receiv- 
ing of a challenge only, is by statute considered a 
high misdemeanor, for which the principal and his 
second are declared infamous and disfranchised for 
twenty years. 

Under what accumulated circumstances of aggra- 
vation does the duelist jeopardize his own life, or 
take the life of his antagonist, 

I am sensible, that in a licentious age, and when 
laws are made to yield to the vices of those who 
move in the higher circles, this crime is called by I 
know not what mild and accommodating name. 
But, before these altars — in this house of God, — 
what is it? It is murder — deliberate, aggravated murder! 

If the duelist deny this, let him produce his war- 
rant from the Author of life, for taking away from 
his creature the life which had been sovereignly 
given. If he can not do this, beyond all controversy 
he is a murderer ; for murder consists in taking away 
life without the permission, and contrary to the pro- 
hibition of him who gave it. 

Who is it, then, that calls the duelist to the dan- 
gerous and deadly combat ? Is it God ? No : on the 
contrary, he forbids it. Is it, then, his country ? No : 
she also utters her prohibitory voice. Who is it, 
then? A man of honor! And who is this man of 
honor ? A man, perhaps, whose honor is a name ; 



14 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

who prates with polluted lips about the sacredness 
of character, when his own is stained with crimes 
and needs but the single shade of murder to com- 
plete the dismal and sickly picture. 

Every transgression of the Divine law implies 
great guilt, because it is the transgression of infinite 
authority. But the crime of deliberately and lightly 
taking life has peculiar aggravations. It is a crime 
committed against the written law not only, but also 
against the dictates of reason, the remonstrances of 
conscience, and every tender and amiable feeling of 
the heart. 

To the unfortunate sufferer, it is the wanton viola- 
tion of his most sacred rights. It snatches him from 
his friends and his comforts ; terminates his state of 
trial, and precipitates him, uncalled for, and perhaps 
unprepared, into the presence of his Judge. 

You will say, the duelist feels no malice. Be it 
so. Malice, indeed, is murder in principle. But 
there may be murder in reason, and in fact where 
there is no malice. Some other unwarrantable pas- 
sion or principle may lead to the unlawful taking of 
human life. 

The highwayman, who cuts the throat and rifles 
the pocket of the passing traveler, feels no malice. 
And could he, with equal ease and no greater danger 
of detection, have secured his booty without taking 
life, he would have stayed his arm over the palpitat- 
ing bosom of his victim, and let the plundered sup- 
pliant pass. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 15 

Would the imputation of cowardice have been 
inevitable to the duelist, if a challenge had not been 
given or accepted? The imputation of want had 
been no less inevitable to the robber, if the money 
of the passing traveler had not been secured. 

Would the duelist have been willing to have 
spared the life of his antagonist, if the point of 
honor could otherwise have been gained ? So would 
the robber, if the point of property could have been. 
Who can say that the motives of the one are not as 
urgent as the motives of the other, and the means 
by which both obtain the object of their wishes are 
the same. 

Thus, according to the dictates of reason, as well 
as the law of God, the highwayman and the duelist 
stand on ground equally nntenable ; and support 
their guilty havoc of the human race by arguments 
equally fallacious. 

Is dueling guilty ? So it is absurd. It is absurd 
as a punishment, for it admits of no proportion to 
crimes : and besides, virtue and vice, guilt and inno- 
cence, are equally exposed by it to death or sufler- 
ing. As a reparation, it is still more absurd, for it 
makes the injured liable to a still greater injury. 
And as the vindication of personal character, it is 
absurd even beyond madness. 

One man of honor, by some inadvertence, or per- 
haps with design, injures the sensibility of another 
man of honor. In perfect character, the injured 
gentleman resents it. He challenges the ofiender. 



16 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

The offender accepts the challenge. The time is 
fixed. The place is agreed upon. The circumstan- 
ces, with an air of solemn mania, are arranged ; and 
the principals, with their seconds and surgeons, retire 
under the covert of some solitary hill, or upon the 
margin of some unfrequented beach, to settle this 
important question of honor by stabbing or shooting 
at each other. 

One or the other or both the parties fall in this 
polite and gentlemanlike contest. And what does 
this prove ? It proves that one or the other, or both 
of them, as the case may be, are marksmen. But 
it affords no evidence that either of them possesses 
honor, probity or talents. 

It is true, that he who falls in siuo-le combat has 
the honor of being murdered : and he who takes his 
life, the honor of a murderer. Besides this, I know 
not of any glory which can redound to the infatu- 
ated combatants, except it be what results from hav- 
ing extended the circle of wretched widows, and 
added to the number of hapless orphans. 

And yet, terminate as it will, this frantic meeting, 
by a kind of magic influence, entirely varnishes over 
a defective and smutty character. Transforms vice 
to virtue, cowardice to courage ; makes falsehood 
truth, guilt innocence. In one word, it gives a new 
complexion to the whole state of things. The Ethi- 
opian changes his skin, the leopard his spot ; and the 
debauched and treacherous, having shot away the 
infamy of a sorry life, comes back from the field of 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 17 

PERFECTIBILITY quite regenerated, and in the fullest 
sense an honorable man. He is now fit for the com- 
pany of gentlemen. He is admitted to that com- 
pany, and should he again by acts of violence stain 
this purity of character so nobly acquired, and should 
any one have the effrontery to say that he has done 
so, again he stands ready to vindicate his honor, and 
by another act of homicide to wipe away the stain 
which has been attached to it. 

I might illustrate this article by example. I 
might produce instances of this mysterious trans- 
formation of character, in the sublime circles of 
moral refinement, furnished by the higher orders of 
the fashionable world, which the mere firing of 
pistols has produced. 

But the occasion is too awful for irony. 

Absurd as dueling is, were it absurd only, though 
we might smile at the weakness and pity the folly of 
its abettors, there would be no occasion for seriously 
attacking them. But, to what has been said, I add, 
that dueling is rash and presumptuous. 

Life is the gift of God, and it was never bestowed 
to be sported with. To each, the sovereign of the 
universe has marked out a sphere to move in, and 
assigned a part to act. This part respects ourselves, 
not only, but others also. Each lives for the benefit 
of all. 

As in the system of nature the sun shines, not to 
display its own brightness and answer its own con- 
venience, but to warm, enlighten and bless the 

3 



18 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

world ; SO in the system of animated beings, there 
is a dependence, a correspondence and a relation 
through an infinitely extended, dying and reviving 
universe, in tvhich no man liveth to himself and no man 
dieth to himself. Friend is related to friend ; the 
father to his family ; the individual to community. 
To every member of which, having fixed his station 
and assigned his duty, the God of nature says, " Keep 
this trust — defend this post." For whom ? For thy 
friends — thy family — thy country. And having 
received such a charge, and for such a purpose, to 
desert it is rashness and temerity. 

Since the opinions of men are as they are, do you 
ask, how you shall avoid the imputation of cow- 
ardice, if you do not fight when you are injured ? 
Ask your family how you will avoid the imputation 
of cruelty — ask your conscience how you will avoid 
the imputation of guilt — ask God how you will avoid 
his malediction if you do. These are previous ques- 
tions. Let these first be answered, and it will be 
easy to reply to any which may follow them. 

If you only accept a challenge, when you believe 
in your conscience that dueling is wrong, you act 
the coward. The dastardl}^ fear of the world governs 
you. Awed by its menaces, you conceal your senti- 
ments, appear in disguise, and act in guilty conform- 
ity to principles not your own, and that, too, in the 
most solemn moment, and when engaged in an act 
which exposes you to death. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 19 

But if it be rashness to accept, how passing rash- 
ness is it, in a sinner, to give a challenge ? Does 
it become him, whose life is measured out by crimes, 
to be extreme to mark, and punctilious to resent 
whatever is amiss in others? Must the duelist, who 
now, disdaining to forgive, so imperiously demands 
satisfaction to the uttermost — must this man, him- 
self trembling at the recollection of his offences, pre- 
sently appear a suppliant before the mercy seat of 
God ? Imagine this, and the case is not imaginary, 
and vou can not conceive an instance of neater in- 
consistency or of more presumptuous arrogance. 
Wherefore, avenge not yourselves, hut rather give ijlace 
unto loratli ; for vengeance is mine, I ivill repay it, saitli the 
Lord. 

Do you ask, then, how you shall conduct towards 
your enemy who hath lightly done you wrong? If 
he be hungry, feed him ; if naked, clothe him ; if 
thirsty, give him drink. Such, had you preferred 
your question t© Jesus Christ, is the answer he had 
given you ; by observing which, you will usually 
subdue, and always act more honorable than your 
enemy. 

I feel, my brethren, as a minister of Jesus and a 
teacher of his Gospel, a noble elevation on this 
article. 

Compare the conduct of the Christian, acting in 
conformity to the principles of religion, and of the 
duelist, acting in conformity to the principles of 
honor, and let reason say which bears the marks of 



20 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

the most exalted greatness. Compare them, and let 
reason say which enjoys the most calm serenity of 
mind in time, and which is likely to receive the 
plaudit of his Judge in immortality. 

God, from his throne, beholds not a nobler object 
on his footstool, than the man who loves his ene- 
mies, pities their errors, and forgives the injuries 
they do him. This is, indeed, the very spirit of the 
heavens ; it is the image of his benignity whose 
glory fills them. 

To return to the subject before us : guilty, absurd, 
and RASH as dueling is, it has its advocates. And 
had it not had its advocates — had not a strange pre- 
ponderance of opinion been in favor of it, never, 0, 
lamented Hamilton! hadst thou thus fallen, in the 
midst of thy days, and before thou hadst reached the 
zenith of thy glory ! 

0, that I possessed the talent of eulogy, and that 
I might be permitted to indulge the tenderness of 
friendship, in paying the last tribute to his memory. 
0, that I were capable of placing this great man 
before you. Could I do this, I should furnish you 
with an argument, the most practical, the most 
plain, the most convincing, except that drawn from 
the mandate of God, that was ever furnished against 
dueling — that horrid practice, which has, in an 
awful moment, robbed the world of such exalted 
worth. 

But I can not do this; I can only hint at the 
variety and exuberance of his excellence. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 21 

The Jltoitj on whom nature seems originally to 
have impressed the stamp of greatness ; whose genius 
beamed from the retirement of collegiate life, with a 
radiance which dazzled, and a loveliness which 
charmed, the eye of sages. 

The §)ttd^ called from his sequestered retreat, 
whose first appearance in the field, though a strip- 
ling, conciliated the esteem of Washington, our good 
old father ; moving by whose side, during all the 
perils of the revolution, our young chieftain was a 
contributor to the veteran's glory, the guardian of 
his person, and the compartner of his toils. 

The CnnilUCror, who, sparing of human blood, when 
victory favored, stayed the uplifted arm, and nobly 
said to the vanquished enemy, " live !" 

The Stdcswan, the correctness of whose principles 
and the strength of whose mind, are inscribed on 
the records of congress and on the annals of the 
council chamber ; whose genius impressed itself upon 
the constitution of his country, and whose memory, 
the government — illustrious fabric — resting on this 
basis, will perpetuate while it lasts ; and, shaken by 
the violence of party, should it fall, (which may hea- 
ven avert,) his prophetic declarations will be found 
inscribed on its ruins. 

The Cnnnsellor, who was at once the pride of the 
bar and the admiration of the court ; whose appre- 
hensions were quick as lightning, and whose devel- 
opment of truth was luminous as its path ; whose 
argument no change of circumstances could embar- 



22 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

rass ; whose knowledge appeared intuitive, and who, 
by a single glance, and with as much facility as the 
eye of the eagle passes over the landscape, surveyed 
the whole field of controversy — saw in what way 
truth might be most successfully defended, and how 
error must be approached. And who, without ever 
stopping, ever hesitating, by a rapid and manly 
march, led the listening judge and the fascinated juror, 
step by step, through a delightsome region, bright- 
ening as he advanced, till his argument rose to de- 
inonstration, and eloquence was rendered useless by 
conviction ; whose talents were employed on the 
side of righteousness ; whose voice, whether in the 
council chamber, or at the bar of justice, was virtue's 
consolation ; at whose approach oppressed humanity 
felt a secret rapture, and the heart of injured inno- 
cence lept for joy. 

Where Hamilton was — in whatever sphere he 
moved — the friendless had a friend, the fatherless a 
fiither, and the poor man, though unable to reward 
his kindness, found an advocate. It was when the 
rich oppressed the poor — when the powerful me- 
naced the defenceless — when truth was disregarded, 
or the eternal principles of justice violated — it was 
on these occasions that he exerted all his strength. 
It was on these occasions that he sometimes soared 
so high, and shone with a radiance so transcendent, 
I had almost said, so " heavenly as filled those around 
him with awe, and gave to him the force and author- 
ity of a prophet." 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 23 

The patrint^ whose integrity baffled the scrutiny 
of inquisition ; whose manly virtue never shaped 
itself to circumstances ; who, always great, always 
himself, stood amidst the varying tides of party, /"rWy 
like the rock, which, far from land, lifts its majestic 
top above the waves, and remains unshaken by the 
storms which agitate the ocean. 

The jfricnbj who knew no guile ; whose bosom 
was transparent, and deep in the bottom of whose 
heart was rooted every tender and sympathetic 
virtue ; whose various worth opposing parties ac- 
knowledged while alive, and on whose tomb they 
unite with equal sympathy and grief to heap their 
honors. 

I know he had his failings. I see on the picture 
of his life, a picture rendered awful by greatness, 
and luminous by virtue, some dark shades. 

On these let the tear that pities human weakness 
fall : on these let the veil which covers human frailty 
rest. 

As a Hero, as a Statesman, as a Patriot, he lived 
nobly ; and would to God, I could add, he nobly 
fell. 

Unwilling to admit his error in this respect, I go 
back to the period of discussion. I see him resisting 
the threatened interview. I imagine myself present 
in his chamber. Various reasons, for a time, seem 
to hold his determination in arrest. Various and 
moving objects pass before him, and speak a dissua- 
sive language. 



24 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

His country, which may need his counsels to guide 
and his arm to defend, utters her veto. The partner 
of his youth, ah^eady covered with weeds, and whose 
tears flow down into her bosom, intercedes ! His 
babes, stretching out their little hands and pointing 
to a weeping mother, with lisping eloquence, but 
eloquence which reaches a parent's heart, cry out, 
" Stay, stay, dear father, and live for us !" In the 
meantime, the spectre of a f^xllen son, pale and 
ghastly, approaches, opens his bleeding bosom, and 
as the harbinger of death, points to the yawning 
tomb, and forewarns a hesitating father of the issue. 

He pauses ; reviews these sad objects, and reasons 
on the subject. I admire his magnanimity; I ap- 
prove his reasoning, and I wait to hear him reject 
with indignation the murderous proposition, and to 
see him spurn from his presence the presumptuous 
bearer of it. 

But I wait in vain. It was a moment in which 
his great wisdom forsook him ; a moment in which 
Hamilton was not himself. 

He yielded to the force of an imperious custom ; 
and yielding, he sacrificed a life in which all had an 
interest; and he is lost — lost to his country — lost 
to his family — lost to us! 

For this act, because he disclaimed it, and was 
penitent, I forgive him. But there are those whom 
I can not forgive. 

I mean not his antagonist, over whose erring steps, 
if there be tears in heaven, a pious mother looks 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 25 

down and weaps. If he be capable of feeling, he 
suffers already all that humanity can suffer. Suffers, 
and wherever he may fly will suffer with the poig- 
nant recollection of having taken the life of one 
who was too magnanimous in return to attempt his 
own. Had he have known this, it must have para- 
lyzed his arm while it pointed, at so incorruptible 
a bosom, the instrument of death. Does he know 
this now, his heart, if it be not adamant, must soften 
— if it be not ice, it must melt. 

But on this article I forbear. Stained with blood, 
as he is, if he be penitent, I forgive him ; and if he 
be not, before these altars, where all of us appear as 
suppliants, I wish not to excite your vengeance, but 
rather, in behalf of an object rendered wretched and 
pitiable by crime, to wake your prayers. 

But I have said, and I repeat it, there are those 
whom I can not forgive, 

I can not forgive that minister at the altar, who 
has hitherto forborne to remonstrate on this subject. 
I can not forgive that public prosecutor, who, en- 
trusted with the duty of avenging his country's 
wrongs, has seen those wrongs, and taken no mea- 
sures to avenge them. I can not forgive that judge 
upon the bench, or that governor in the chair of 
state, who has lightly passed over such offences. I 
can not forgive the public, in whose opinion the 
duelist finds a sanctuary. I can not forgive you, 
my brethren, who, till this late hour, have been 
silent, whilst successive murders were committed. 



26 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

No ', I can not forgive you, that you have not, in 
common with the freemen of this state, raised your 
voice to the powers that be, and loudly and explicitly 
demanded an execution of your laws. Demanded 
this in a manner, which if it did not reach the ear of 
government, would at least have reached the hea- 
vens, and plead your excuse before the God that fill- 
eth them. In whose presence, as I stand, I should 
not feel myself innocent of the blood which crieth 
against us, had I been silent. But I have not been 
silent. Many of you who hear me are my witnesses 
— the walls of yonder temple, where I have hereto- 
fore addressed you, are my witnesses, how freely I 
have animadverted on this subject, in the presence 
both of those who have violated the laws, and of 
those whose indispensable duty it is to see the laws 
executed on those who violate them. 

I enjoy another opportunity ; and would to God, 
I might be permitted to approach for once the 
late scene of death. Would to God, I could there 
assemble on the one side, the disconsolate mother 
with her seven fatherless children, and on the other 
those who administer the justice of my country. 
Could I do this, I would point them to these sad 
objects. I would entreat them, by the agonies of 
bereaved fondness, to listen to the widow's heartfelt 
groans ; to mark the orphans' sighs and tears. And 
having done this, I would uncover the breathless 
corpse of Hamilton — I would lift from his gaping 
wound his bloody mantle — I would hold it up to hea- 



AI^XANDER HAMILTON. 27 

ven before them, and I would ask, in the name of 
God, I would ask, whether at the sight of it they felt 
no compunction. 

You will ask, perhaps, what can be done to arrest 
the progress of a practice which has yet so many 
advocates ? I answer, not hin(/ — if it be the deliberate 
intention to do nothing. But if otherwise, much is 
within our power. 

Let, then, the governor see that the laws are exe- 
cuted — let the council displace the man who offends 
against their majesty. Let courts of justice frown 
from their bar, as unworthy to appear before them, 
the murderer and his accomplices. Let the people 
declare him unworthv of their confidence who ensja- 
ges in such sanguinary contests. Let this be done ; 
and should life still be taken in single combat, then 
the governor, the council, the court, the people, look- 
ing up to the Avenger of sin, may say, " we are inno- 
cent — we are innocent." 

Do you ask how proof can be obtained? How 
can it be avoided ? The parties return, hold up be- 
fore our eyes the instruments of death, publish to 
the world the circumstances of their interview, and 
even, with an air of insulting triumph, boast how 
cooly and how deliberately they proceeded in violat- 
ing one of the most sacred laws of earth and heaven. 

Ah, ye tragic shores of Hoboken ! crimsoned with 
the richest blood, I tremble at the crimes you record 
against us — the annual register of murders, which 
you keep and send up to God ! Place of inhuman 



28 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

cruelty ! beyond the limits of reason, of duty, and 
of religion, where man assumes a more barbarous 
nature, and ceases to be man. What poignant, lin- 
gering sorrows do thy lawless combats occasion to 
surviving relatives. 

Ye who have hearts of pity — ye who have expe- 
rienced the anguish of dissolving friendship — who 
have wept, and still weep, over the mouldering ruins 
of departed kindred, ye can enter into this reflec- 
tion. 

0, thou disconsolate widow ! robbed, so cruelly 
robbed, and in so short a time, both of a husband 
and a son, what must be the plenitude of thy suffer- 
ings ! Could we approach thee, gladly would we drop 
the tear of sympathy, and pour into thy bleeding 
bosom the balm of consolation. But how could we 
comfort her whom God hath not comforted ! To his 
throne, let us lift up our voice and weep. 0, God ! 
if thou art still the widow's husband, and the father 
of the fatherless — if in the fullness of thy goodness 
there be j^et mercies in store for miserable mortals, 
pity, pity this afflicted mother, and grant that her 
hapless orphans may find a friend, a benefactor, a 
father in Thee ! 

On this article I have done : and may God add his 
blessing. 

But I have still a claim upon your patience. I 
can not here repress my feelings, and thus let pass 
the present opportunity. 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 29 

How are the mighty fallen ! And regardless as we 
are of vulgar deaths, shall not the fall of the mighty 
affect us ? 

A short time since, and he who is the occasion of 
our sorrows, was the ornament of his country. He 
stood on an eminence ; and glory covered him. 
From that eminence he has fallen — suddenly, for 
ever fallen. His intercourse with the living world 
is now ended ; and those who would hereafter find 
him must seek him in the grave. There, cold and 
lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of 
friendship. There, dim and sightless is the eye, 
whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intel- 
ligence ; and there, closed forever, are those lips on 
whose persuasive accents we have so often and so 
lately hung with transport. 

From the darkness which rests upon his tomb 
there proceeds, methinks, a light in which it is 
clearly seen that those gaudy objects which men 
pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly 
shines the splendor of victory — how humble appears 
the majesty of grandeur. The bubble which seemed 
to have so much solidity has burst : and we again see 
that all below the sun is vanity. 

True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. 
The sad and solemn procession has moved. The 
badge of mourning has already been decreed, and 
presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, 
proud to perpetuate the name of JjailtiltDltj and re- 
hearse to the passing traveler his virtues. 



30 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

Just tributes of respect ! And to the living useful. 
But to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble 
habitation, what are they? — How vain ! how una- 
vailing ! 

Approach, and behold — while I lift from his sepul- 
chre its covering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye 
emulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and 
behold him now. How pale ! How silent ! No 
martial bands admire the adroitness of his move- 
ments. No facinating throng weep, and melt, and 
tremble at his eloquence. — Amazing change! A 
shroud ! a coffin ! a narrow subterraneous cabin ! 
This is all that now remains of Hamilton ! And is 
this all that remains of him ? During a life so tran- 
sitory, what lasting monument, then, can our fondest 
hopes erect ? 

My brethren ! we stand on the borders of an awful 
GULF, which is swallowing up all things human. 
And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing 
stable, nothing abiding, nothing immortal on which 
poor, frail, dying man can fasten ? 

Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom 
you have been accustomed to revere, and he will 
tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has 
already told you, from his death-bed, and his illum- 
ined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well- 
known eloquence, the solemn admonition : 

" Mortals ! hastening to the tomb, and once the 
companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and 
avoid my errors — Cultivate the virtues I have recom- 



ALEXANDER HAMILTON. 31 

mended — Choose the Savior I have chosen — Live 
disinterestedly — Live for immortality; and would 
you rescue anything from final dissolution, lay it 
up in God." 

Thus speaks, methinks, our deceased benefactor, 
and thus he acted during his last sad hours. To the 
exclusion of every other concern, religion now claims 
all his thoughts. 

Jesus ! Jesus is now his only hope. The friends 
of Jesus are his friends. The ministers of the altar 
his companions. While these intercede he listens in 
awful silence, or in profound submission whispers his 
assent. 

Sensible, deeply sensible of his sins, he pleads no 
merit of his own. He repairs to the mercy seat, and 
there pours out his penitential sorrows — there he 
solicits pardon. 

Heaven, it should seem, heard and pitied the sup- 
pliant's cries. Disburdened of his sorrows, and look- 
ing up to God, he exclaims, " Grace, rich grace." " I 
have," said he, clasping his dying hands, and with a 
faltering tongue, " I have a tender reliance on the 
mercy of God in Christ." In token of this reliance, 
and as an expression of his faith, he receives the 
holy sacrament. And, having done this, his mind 
becomes tranquil and serene. Thus he remains, 
thoughtful indeed, but unruffled to the last, and 
meets death with an air of dignified composure, and 
with an eye directed to the heavens. 



32 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

This last act, more than any other, sheds glory on 
his character. Everything else death effaces. Reli- 
gion alone abides with him on his death-bed. He 
dies a Christian. This is all which can be enrolled 
of him among the archives of eternity. This is all 
that can make his name great in heaven. 

Let not the sneering infidel persuade you that this 
last act of homage to the Savior, resulted from an 
enfeebled state of mental faculties, or from perturba- 
tion occasioned by the near approach of death. No j 
his opinions concerning the Divine Mission of Jesus 
Christ, and the validity of the Holy Scriptures, had 
long been settled, and settled after laborious investi- 
gation and extensive and deep research. These opin- 
ions were not concealed. I knew them myself 
Some of you who hear me knew them. And had 
his life been spared, it was his determination to have 
published them to the world, together with the facts 
and reasons on which they were founded. 

At a time when scepticism, shallow and superficial 
indeed, but depraved and malignant, is breathing 
forth its pestilential vapor, and polluting by its un- 
hallowed touch, everything divine and sacred ; it is 
consoling to a devout mind to reflect, that the great, 
and the wise, and the good of all ages — those supe- 
rior geniuses, whose splendid talents have elevated 
them almost above mortality, and placed them next 
in order to angelic natures ; yes, it is consoling to a 
devout mind to reflect, that while dtvarfish infidelity 
lifts up its deformed head and mocks, these illustri- 



ALEXMDER liAmLTON. 33 

ous pmsoNAGES, though living in different ages— in- 
habiting diflferent countries — nurtured in different 
schools — destined to different pursuits — and differ- 
ing on various subjects — should all, as if touched 
with an impulse from heaven, agree to vindicate the 
sacredness of revelation, and present with one accord, 
their learning, their talents, and their virtue, on the 
Gospel altar, as an offering to Emanuel. 

This is not exaggeration. Who was it, that over- 
leaping the narrow bounds which had hitherto been 
set to the human mind, ranged abroad through the 
immensity of space, discovered and illustrated those 
laws by which the Deity unites, binds, and governs 
all things ? Who was it, soaring into the sublime of 
astronomic science, numbered the stars of heaven, 
measured their spheres, and called them by their 
names ? It was Newton. But Newton was a Chris- 
tian. Newton, great as he was, received instruction 
from the lips, and laid his honors at the feet of Jesus. 

Who was it, that developed the hidden combina- 
tion, the component parts of bodies ? Who was it, 
that dissected the animal, examined the flower, pene- 
trated the earth, and ranged the extent of organic 
nature ? It was Boyle. But Boyle was a Christian. 

Who was it, that lifted the veil which had for ages 
covered the intellectual world, analyzed the human 
mind, defined its powers, and reduced its operations 
to certain and fixed laws ? It was Locke. But Locke, 
too, was a Christian. 

5 



34 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

What more shall I say? For time would fail me 
to speak of Hale, learned in the law ; of Addison, 
admired in the schools ; of Milton, celebrated among 
the poets ; and of Washington, immortal in the field 
and in the cabinet. To this catalogue of professing 
Christians, from among, if I may speak so, a higher 
order of beings, may now be added the name of 
jUcffltlbct Qitinilton : A name which raises in the mind 
the idea of whatever is great, whatever is splendid, 
whatever is illustrious in human nature ; and which 
is now added to a catalogue which might be length- 
ened — and lengthened — and lengthened with the 
names of illustrious characters, whose lives have 
blessed society, and whose v^'orks fofm a column high 
as heaven — a column of learning, of wisdom and of 
greatness, which will stand to future ages, an eternal 
monument of the transcendent talents of the advocates 
of Christianity, when every fugitive leaf from the 
pen of the canting infidel witlings of the day, shall 
be swept by the tide of time from the annals of the 
world, and buried with the names of their authors 
in oblivion. 

To conclude : Hoiu are the mighty fatten ! Fallen 
before the desolating hand of death. Alas! the ru- 
ins of the tomb ! . . . . The ruins of the tomb are an 
emblem of the ruins of the world ! When not an 
individual, but an universe, already marred by sin 
and hastening to dissolution, shall agonize and die ! 
Directing your thoughts from the one, fix them for 
a moment on the other. Anticipate the concluding 



ALEX.\NDER HMIILTON. 35 

scene — the final catastrophe of nature. When the 
sign of the Son of man shall be seen in heaven. 
When the Son of man himself shall appear in the 
glory of his Father, and send forth judgment unto 
victory. The fiery desolation envelopes towns, pala- 
ces and fortresses. The heavens pass away ! The 
earth melts ! And all those magnificent productions 
of art, which ages, heaped on ages, have reared up, 
are in one aw^ful day reduced to ashes ! 

Against the ruins of that day, as well as the ruins 
of the tomb which precede it, the Gospel in the cross 
of its great High Priest, offers you all a sanctuary. 
A sanctuary secure and abiding. A sanctuary, which 
no lapse of time nor change of circumstances can 
destroy. No; neither life nor death — No; neither 
principalities nor powers. 

Everything else is fugitive ; everything else is 
mutable ; everj^thing else will fail you. But this, 
the CITADEL of the Christian's hopes, will never fail 
you. Its base is adamant. It is cemented w^ith the 
richest blood. The ransomed of the Lord crowd its 
portals. Embosomed in the dust which it encloses, 
the bodies of the redeemed " rest in hope." On its 
top dwells the Church of the first born, who in de- 
lightful response with the angels of light, chant re- 
deeming love. Against this citadel the tempest 
beats, and around it the storm rages and spends its 
force in vain. Immortal in its nature, and incapable 
of change, it stands, and stands firm amidst the ruins 
of a mouldering world, and endures forever. 



36 DISCOURSE ON THE DEATH OF 

Thither fly, ye prisoners of hope! — that when 
earth, air, elements, shall have passed away, secure 
of existence and felicity, you may join with saints in 
glory, to perpetuate the song which lingered on the 
faltering tongue of ^^amiltoilj " Grace, rich Grace." 

God grant us this honor. Then shall the measure 
of our joy be full, and to his name shall be the glory 
in Christ. Amen. 



. APPENDIX. 



The following paper, in the hand writing of Gen. Hamilton, was 
enclosed with his Will, and some other papers, in a packet, ad-- 
dressed to one of his executors, which was of course not to have 
been delivered but in case of the melancholy event that has hap- 
pened. As it contains his motives and reflections on the causes 
that have led to this fatal catastrophe, it is deemed proper to com- 
municate it to the public. 

AN my expected interview with Col. Burr, I think it proper to make 
some remarks explanatory of my conduct, motives and views. 
I was certainly desirous of avoiding this interview, for the most co^ 
gent reasons ; 

1. My religious and moral principles are strongly opposed to the 
practice of dueling, and it would ever give me pain to be obliged to 
shed the blood of a fellow-creature, in a private combat forbidden by 
the laws. 

2. My wife and children are extremely dear to me, and my life is 
of the utmost importance to them, in various views. 

3. I feel a sense of obligation towards my creditors, who, in case of 
accident to me, by the forced sale of my property, may be in some 
degree suflferers. I did not think myself at liberty, as a man of pro^ 
bity, lightly to expose them to this hazard. 

4. I am conscious of no ill will to Col. Burr, distinct from political 
opposition, which, as I trust, has proceeded from pure and upright 
motives. 

Lastly, I shall hazard much, and can possibly gain nothing, by the 
issue of the interview. 

But it was, as I conceive, impossible for me to avoid it. There 
were intrinsic difficulties in the thing, and artificial embarrassments, 
from the manner of proceeding on the part of Col. Burr. 



38 APPENDIX. 

Intrinsic, because it is not to be denied, that my animadversions on 
the political principles, character and views of Col. Burr, have been 
extremely severe ; and on different occasions, I, in common with many 
others, have made very unfavorable criticisms on particular instances 
of the private conduct of this gentleman. 

In proportion as these impressions were entertained with sincerity, 
and uttered with motives and for purposes which might appear to me 
commendable, would be the difficulty (until they could be removed 
by evidence of their being erroneous) of explanation or apology. The 
disavowal acquired of me by Col. Burr, in a general and indefinite 
form, was out of my power, if it had really been proper for me to sub- 
mit to be so questioned ; but I was sincerely of opinion that this could 
not be, and in this opinion I was confirmed by that of a very mode- 
rate and judicious friend whom I consulted. Besides that, Col. Burr 
appeared to me to assume, in the first instance, a tone unnecessarily 
peremptory and menacing, and in the second, positively offensive. 

Yet I wished, as far as might be practicable, to leave a door open to 
» 

accommodation. This, I think, will be inferred from the written com- 
munications made by me and by my direction, and would be confirmed 
by the conversations between Mr. Van Ness and myself, which arose 
out of the subject. 

I am not sure, whether, under all the circumstances, I did not go 
further in the attempt to accommodate, than a punctilious delicacy 
will justify. If so, I hope the motives I have stated will excuse me. 

It is not my design, by what I have said, to affix any odium on the 
conduct of Col. Burr, in this case. He doubtless has heard of anim- 
adversions of mine which bore very hard upon him ; and it is probable 
that as usual they were accompanied with some falsehoods. He may 
have supposed himself under the necessity of acting as he has done ; % 
hope the grounds of his proceeding have been such as ought to satisfy 
his own conscience. 

I trust, at the same time, that the world will do me the justice to 
believe, that I have not censured him on light grounds, nor from un- 
worthy inducements. I certainly have had strong reasons for what I 
may have said, though it is possible that in some particulars, I may 
have been influenced by misconstruction or misinformation. It is also 



APPENDIX. 39 

my ardent wish that I may have been more mistaken than I think I 
have been, and tliat he, by his future conduct, may show himself wor- 
thy of all confidence and esteem, and prove an ornament and blessing 
to the country. 

As well because It is possible that I may have injured Col. Burr, 
however convinced myself that my opinions and declarations have been 
well founded, as from my general principles and temper in relation to 
similar affairs — I have resolved, if our interview is conducted in the 
usual manner, and it pleases God to give me the opportunity, to reserve 
and throio aivay my first fire, and / have thoughts even of reserving 
my second fire — and thus give a double opportunity to Col. Burr, 
to pause and reflect. 

It is not, however, my intention to enter into any explanations on 
the ground — apology, from principle I hope, rather than pride, is out 
of the question. 

To those, who, with me, abhorring the practice of dueling, may 
think that I ought on no account to have added to the number of bad 
examples — I answer, that my relative situation, as well in public as 
private, enforcing all the considerations which constitute what men 
of the world denominate honor, imposed on me (as I thought) a pecu- 
liar necessity not to decline the call. The ability to be in future useful, 
whether in resisting mischief or effecting good, in those crises of our 
public affairs, which seem likely to happen, would probably be insepar- 
able from a conformity with public prejudice in this particular. 

A. H. 



• WILL. 

In the name of God, Amen. I, Alexander Hamilton, of the city 
of New- York, counsellor at law, do make this my last will and testa- 
ment, as follows : 

First. I appoint John B. Church, Nicholas Fish, and Nathaniel 
Pendleton, of the city aforesaid. Esquires, to be executors and trustees 
of this my will, and T devise to them, their heirs and assigns, as joint 
tenants and not as tenants in common, all my estate real and personal 



40 APPENDIX. 

whatsoever, and wheresoever, upon trust, at their discretion, to sell 
and dispose of the same, at such time and times, in such manner, and 
upon such terms, as they, the survivors and survivor shall think fit, 
and out of the proceeds to pay all the debts which I shall owe at the 
time of my decease ; in whole if the fund be sufficient ; proportionably 
if it shall be insufficient ; and the residue, if any there shall be, to pay 
and deliver to my excellent and dear wife, Elizabeth Hamilton. 

Though if it should please God to spare my life, I may look for a 
considerable surplus out of my present property, yet, if he should 
speedily call me to the eternal world, a forced sale, as is usual, may 
possibly render it insufficient to satisfy my debts. I pray God that 
something may remain for the maintenance and education of my dear 
wife and children. But should it on the contrary happen that there 
is not enough for the payment of my debts, I entreat my dear children, 
if they, or any of them, should ever be able, to make up the deficiency- 
I without hesitation commit to their delicacy a wish which is dictated 
by my own. Though conscious that I have too far sacrificed the inte* 
rests of my family to public avocations, and on this account have the 
less claim to burthen my children, yet I trust in their magnanimity to 
appreciate as they ought, this my request. In so unfavorable an event 
of things, the support of their dear mother, with the most respectful 
and tender attention, is a duty, all the saereduess of which they will 
feel. Probably her own patrimonial resources will preserve her from 
indigence. But in all situations they are charged to bear in mind that 
she has been to them the most devoted and best of mothers. 

In testimony whereof, I have hereunto subscribed my hand, the 
ninth day of July, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight 
hundred and four. 

ALEXANDER HAMILTON. * 
Signed, sealed, published and declared, as and for his last will and 

testament, in our presence, who have subscribed the same in his 

presence, the words John B. Church being above interlined. 

DOMINICK F. BLAKE, 
GRAHAM BURRILL, 
THEO: B. VALLEAU. 



APPENDIX. 41 

New-York Surrogate's Office, ) 

July 1G, 18(U. j *^- 

I do hereby certify the preceding to he a true copy of the original 
will of Alexander Hamilton, deceased, now on file in my office. 

SILVANUS MILLER, Surrogate, 



BISHOP MOORE^S LETTER. 

Mr. Coleman, 

The public mind being extremely agitated Ity the melanclioly fate 
of that o-reat man, Alexander Hamilton, I have thought it would be 
grateful to my fellow-citizens, would provide against misrepresenta- 
tions, and, perhaps, be conducive to the advancement of the cause of 
religion, were I to give a narrative of some facts which have fallen 
under my own observation, during the time which elapsed between the 
fatal duel and his departure out of this world. 

Yesterday morning, immediately after he was brought from Hoboken 
to the house of Mr. Bayard, at Greenwich, a message was sent, informing 
me of the sad event, accompanied by a request from Gen. Hamilton, 
that I would come to him for the purpose of administering the holy 
communion. I went ; but, being desirous to afford time for serious 
reflection, and conceiving that under existing circumstances, it would 
be right and proper to avoid every appearance of precipitancy in per- 
forming one of the most solemn offices of our religion, I did not then 
comply with his desire. At one o'clock I was again called on to visit 
him. Upon my entering the room and approaching his bed, with the 
utmost calmness and composure he said, " My dear Sir, you perceive 
my vinfortunate situation, and no doubt have been made acquainted 
with the circuustances which led to it. It is my desire to receive the 
communion at your hands. I hope you will not conceive there is any 
impropriety in my request." He added, " It has for some time past 
been the wish of my heart, and it was my intention to take an early 
opportunity of uniting myself to the church, by the reception of that 
holy ordinance." I observed to him, that he must be very sensible 
of the delicate and trying situation in which I was then placed ; that, 

6 



42 APPENDIX. 

however desirous I might be to afford consolation to a fellow-mortal 
in distress, still it was my duty, as a minister of the Gospel, to hold 
up the law of Grod as paramount to all other law ; and that, there- 
fore, under the influence of such sentiments, I fiiust unequivocally 
condemn the practice which had brought him to his present unhappy 
condition. He acknowledged the propriety of these sentiments, and 
declared he viewed the late transaction with sorrow and contrition. I 
then asked him, " Should it please God to restore you to health. Sir, 
will you never be again engaged in a similar transaction ? and will you 
employ all your influence in society to discountenance this barbarous 
custom?" His answer was, " That, Sir, is my deliberate intention." 
I proceeded to converse with him on the subject of his receiving the 
communion ; and told him, that with respect to the qualifications of 
those who wished to become partakers of that holy ordinance, my en- 
quu-ies could not be made in language more expressive than that which 
was used by our church — "Do you sincerely repent of your sins 
past ? Have you a lively faith in God's mercy through Christ, with 
a thankful remembrance of the death of Christ ? And are you dispos- 
ed to live in love and charity with all men ?" He lifted up his hands 
and said, " With the utmost sincerity of heart I can answer those 
questions in the affirmative — I have no ill-will against Col. Burr. I 
met him with a fixed resolution to do him no harm. I forgive all that 
happened." I then observed to him, that the terrors of the divine 
law were to be announced to the obdurate and impenitent ; but that 
the consolations of the Gospel were to be offered to the humble and 
contrite heart ; that I had no reason to doubt his sincerity, and would 
proceed immediately to gratify his wishes. The communion was then 
administered, which he received with great devotion, and his heart 
afterwards appeared to be perfectly at rest. I saw him again this 
morning, when with his last faltering words he expressed a strong con- 
fidence in the mercy of God through the intercession of the Eedeemer. 
I remained with him until two o'clock this afternoon, when death 
closed the awful scene — he expired without a struggle, and almost 
without a groan. 

By reflecting on this melancholy event, let the humble believer be 
encouraged ever to hold fast that precious faith which is the only 



APPENDIX. 43 

source of ^rue consolation in the last extremity of nature. Let the 
infidel be persuaded to abandon his opposition to that Gospel which 
the strong, inquisitive, and comprehensive mind of a Hamilton em- 
braced, in his last moments, as the truth from heaven. Let those who 
are disposed to justify the practice of dueling, be induced, by this 
simple narrative, to view with abhorrence that custom which has oc- 
casioned an irreparable loss to a worthy and most afflicted family ; 
which has deprived his friends of a beloved companion, his profession 
of one of its brightest ornaments, and his country of a great statesman 
and a real patriot. With great respect, I remain. 

Your friend and serv't. 

BENJAMIN MOOKE. 



REV. MR. MASON'S LETTER. 

To THE Editor of the Covmercial Advertiser ; 

Having read in your paper of the 16th, a very imperfect account of 
my conversation with General Hamilton, the day previous to his de- 
•cease, I judge it my duty to lay the following narrative before the 
public. 

On the morning of Wednesday, the 11th inst., shortly after the 
rumor of the General's injury had created an alarm in the city, a note 
from Dr. Post informed me that " he was extremely ill at Mr, William 
Bayard's, and expressed a particular desire to see me as soon as possi- 
ble." I went immediately. The exchange of melancholy salutation 
on entering the General's apartment was succeeded by a silence which 
he broke by saying, that he "had been anxious to see me, and have 
ihe sacrament administered to him, and that this was still his wish." 
I replied, " that it gave me unutterable pain to receive from him any 
request to which I could not accede : That in the present instance, a 
•compliance was incompatible with all my obligations ; as it was a prin- 
ciple in our churches never to administer the Lord's supper privately 
to any person, under any circumstances." He urged me no further. 

I then remarked to him that " the holy communion is an exhibition 
and pledge of the mercies which the Sou of God has purchased ; that 



44 APPENDIX. 

the absence of the sign does not cxchule from the mercies signified ; 
which were accessible to him by faith in their gracious Author." "I 
am aware," said he, " of that. It is only as a sign that I wanted it." 
A short pause ensued. I resumed tlie discourse, by observing that 
" I had nothing to address to him in his affliction, but that sanie Gos- 
pel of the grace of God which it is my office to preach to the most 
obscure and illiterate : that in the sight of God all men are on a level, 
as all have sinned, and come short of his glory ; and that they must 
apply to liim for parddu and for life, as sinners, whose only refuge is 
in his grace reigning by righteousness through our Lord Jesus Christ.''^ 
" I perceive it to be so," said he, " I am a sinner : I look to his mer- 
cy." I then adverted to " the infinite merit of the Redeemer, as the 
'propitiation for sin, the sole ground of our acceptance with God ; the 
sole channel of his favor to us ; and cited the following passages of 
the Scripture : " There is no other name given under heaven among 
men whereby we must be saved, but the name of Jesus — He is able 
to save them to the uttermost who come unto God by him, seeing he 
ever liveth to make intercession for them — The blood of Jesus Christ 
cleanseth from all sin." This last passage introduced the affair of the 
duel, on which I reminded the General that he was not to be instruct- 
ed as to its moral aspect; that " the precious blood of Christ was as 
effectual and as necessary to wash away the transgression which had 
involved him in suffering, as any other transgression ; and that he 
must there, and there alone, seek peace for his conscience, and a hope 
that should not mcd^e him ashamed." He assented with strong emo- 
tion, to these representations, and declared his abhorrence of the wliole 
transaction. " It was always," added he, " against my principles. I 
used every expedient to avoid the interview ; but I have found, for some 
time past, that my life must be exposed to that man. I went to the 
field determined not to take his life." He repeated his disavowal of 
all intention to hurt Mr. Buiai ; the anguish of his mind in recol- 
lecting what had passed ; and his humble hope of forgiveness from hi» 
God." I recurred to the topic of the Divine compassions ; the freedom 
of pardon in the Redeemer Jesus, to perishing sinners. " That 
grace, my dear General, which brings salvation is rich, rich." "Yes," 
interrupted he, " it is rich grace." " And on that grace," continued 



APPENDIX. 45 

I, " a sinner has the highest encouragement to repose his confidence, 
because it is tendered to him upon the surest foundation ; the Scrip- 
ture testifj^ing that " we have redemption through the blood of Jesus, 
the forgiveness of sins according to the riches of his grace." Here 
the General, letting go my hand, whicli he had held from the moment 
I sat down by his bed-side, clasped his hands together, and looking up 
towards heaven, said with emphasis, "I have a tender reliance on the 
mercy of the Almighty through the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ." 
He replaced his hand in mine, and, appearing somewhat spent, closed 
his eyes. A little after, he fastened them on me, and I proceeded : 
" The simple truths of the Gospel, my dear sir, which require no ab- 
struse investigation, but faith in the veracity of God, who cannot lie, 
are best suited to your present condition, and they are full of consola- 
tion." " I feel them to be so," replied he. I then repeated these 
texts of Scripture : " It is a foithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- 
tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, and of 
sinners the chief — I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgres- 
sions, for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins — Come 
now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord ; though your sins 
be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow ; though they be red like 
crimson, they shall be as wool." " This," said he, "is my support 
— pray for me." " Shall I pray loith you?" " Yes !" I prayed 
with him, and heard him whisper as I went along, which I supposed 
to be his concurrence with the petitions. At the conclusion he said, 
" Amen, God grant it." 

Being about to part with him, I told him "I had one request to 
make." He asked "what it was?" I answered, "that whatever 
might be the issue of his affliction, he would give his testimony against 
the practice of dueling." " I will," said he, — I have done it. If 
that,'''' evidently anticipating the event, " li that be the issue, you will 
find it in writing. If it please God that I recover, I shall do it in a 
manner which will eflFectually put me out of its reach in future." 

I mentioned, once more, the importance of renouncing every other 
dependence for the eternal world, but the mercy of God in Christ 
Jesus ; with a particular reference to the catastrophe of the morninor. 
The General was affected and said, "Let us not pursue the subject 



46 APPENDIX. 

any further — it agitates me." He laid his hands upon his breast, 
with symptoms of uneasiness, which indicated an increased difficulty of 
speaking. I then took my leave. He pressed my hand affectionately, 
and desired to see me again at a proper interval. As I was retiring, 
he lifted up his hands in the attitude of prayer, and said feebly, " God 

be merciful to ." His voice sunk, so that I heard not the rest 

distinctly, but understood him to quote the words of the publican in 
the Gospel, and to end the sentence with, " me, a sinner." 

I saw him a second time, on the morning of Thursday ; but from his 
appearance, and what I had heard, supposing he could not speak with- 
out severe effort, I had no conversation with him. I prayed for a 
moment, at his bed-side, in company with his overwhelmed family 
and friends ; and for the rest, was one of the mourning spectators of 
his composure and dignity in suffering. His mind remained in its 
former state ; and he viewed with calmness his approaching dissolu- 
tion. I left him between twelve and one, and at two, as the public 
know, he breathed his last. 

I am, Sir, with much respect. 

Your obedient servant, 

J. M. MASOJif. 



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